Starting the day coming with her was a pretty fucking great way to start the day.
So, it was less than ideal to wake to the sound of raised voices filtering into the bedroom. As I became more conscious of it, I realized Jane was arguing with a guy.
My heart leapt and I pushed off the duvet, rolling out of bed to scramble into my jeans. Not even waiting to throw on a shirt, I marched out into the sitting room.
Jane and Asher Steadman turned from facing off to look at me.
What the fuck?
My fists clenched at my sides as I took a step toward them. “What the hell is going on?”
Asher didn’t seem as shocked to see me as I’d expect. He frowned at Jane. “Why didn’t you tell me we weren’t alone?”
“You’re not asking the questions here.”
That’s my girl. I strode to stand by her side, giving her my support. “What’s he doing here?”
“He came to apologize since I won’t answer his calls.”
“Can we not talk like I’m not here?” Asher glanced between us. “So, you and Jamie are back together?”
Shit. He knew me.
Jane gaped at him in shock, while I prepared myself for the extremely bad news that Foster Steadman knew I was hanging around.
“How do you know who he is?” Jane asked, stepping protectively closer to me.
Asher noted it. “Jane, my father doesn’t know.” He looked at me, all wide-eyed and innocent. I didn’t believe his good-guy bullshit for a second. “He doesn’t know you’re here, and he won’t know. But you have to back off.”
Oh no, he didn’t.
Jane grabbed hold of me as I made to step toward the spoiled bastard.
“Back off?” she huffed, putting herself between us.
I rested my hands on her shoulders as she continued, “Like you wanted me to when you sabotaged my attempts to take down your dad?”
Asher nervously licked his lips. “How can you think that I would ever deliberately hurt you? You have to believe in me, Jane, and know that when the time is right, all of this will make sense.”
“You lied to me.”
“I did.” He took an imploring step toward her. “But I love you.”
A low growl buried its way out of me before I could stop. “Take another step toward her and I’ll snap your fucking neck.”
Jane tensed under my hands as Asher eyed me.
Then something I didn’t quite understand crossed his face. He glanced at Jane, then back at me, and then back to Jane. “You think I don’t care about you … I do. I’d do anything for you.” He shifted his attention to me. “Jane and I were never together. I know you said some pretty horrible things to her when she came to see you two years ago because you thought we were sleeping together. We weren’t. We never will.” He took a deep breath. “I’m asexual. I love Jane very much, but I don’t have sexual feelings for her because I don’t have those feelings at all.”
Stunned, I slumped. “Why let the tabloids pretend you were dating, then?”
He looked at Jane and sadness tightened his expression. “Because when I tried to explain it to my mom, she told me I was just a late bloomer. And when I told my dad, he told me I was looking for attention, that I needed to act ‘normal.’ When I tried to push it with them both, Foster beat the shit out of me and called it ‘kicking the heterosexuality into me.’” Asher scoffed. “People aren’t just pricks to homosexuals, Jamie. It’s anyone who sits outside the boundaries of ‘heterosexual normality.’
“After that, I had to deal with a lot of shit from Foster. A lot of emotional abuse. I also figured out what he’d been doing to women long before Jane came along. I knew, and I know my father needs to be stopped, but when the tabloids put Jane and me together as a couple, Foster stepped off me. It was a relief. It was also a relief to have other friends stop questioning me about sex and dating. Whether they realized it or not, they made me feel like there was something wrong with me. I suffered from a lot of anxiety.”
His eyes dropped to Jane again, affection bright in them. “Until Jane. She didn’t mind going along with the lie that we were together.”
My immediate concern was Jane and how I would ever make it up to her for having such little faith in her.
It would take me a lifetime, which wasn’t exactly a punishment.
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“For Jane. So you can know for certain that she never forgot about you.” He looked at her again. “You know how hard that was for me to trust him with that, so you have to know what I did wasn’t to hurt you.”
“Okay,” she replied, her voice soft. “Thank you, Asher. I do appreciate it, and you know, as hurt as I am, I love you. Please don’t betray that. You can’t tell Foster about Jamie.”
“I promise I would never do that.” Asher’s gaze shifted between us. “But you have to promise to do as I say. You have to promise to back off and let me deal with this.”
No. Fucking. Way. “I can’t do that.”
Jane tensed beneath my hands again.
Asher sighed heavily. “Jane, talk some sense into your boyfriend.”
Then he was gone and the vibe coming off Jane was not good.
Jesus, hadn’t we sorted this out last night?
She stepped away to turn and face me. “You heard him.”
“And I thought we agreed last night that I’d leave Elena out of this. I’ll give you something else. I’ll let Internal Affairs deal with Wright, and even if they don’t come through, I’m gonna let the bastard go. I won’t go after him. But I can’t walk away from Foster Steadman, and you know it.”
“Jamie, if he finds out you’re here and you’re gunning for him …” Fear darkened her eyes. “I’m terrified that this time, he’ll shut you up for good.”
“He won’t get away with murder, Jane.”
She narrowed her eyes in disbelief. “Jamie, do you think Skye is the only woman he’s sexually assaulted? From what Asher and I could deduce, he’s been violating women for nearly three decades. How many victims do you think we’re talking about here? And he’s getting away with it. Somehow, he and Kramer would find a way of getting away with shutting you up for good. It doesn’t have to be murder. They could just frame you for it.”
I chuckled, and it was the wrong thing to do. I knew that when she smacked me in the face with a cushion off her sofa.
“Jane …” I tried to placate her. “I’m not going to get caught.”
“I’m not asking you to give up. I’m just asking you to step back for now. Do it for me. Please. It’s the right thing to do. Until things calm down.”
“What things? Your bestie barges in this morning, doesn’t explain his reasons for making a fool out of you, and suddenly you want me to step back? You knew why I was in LA. You knew exactly who I was when you let me back in. I’m doing this and I will not be manipulated out of it. Fuck!” I was beyond furious at her for making me feel like the bad guy, and I knew if I didn’t get out of there, I’d say something I’d regret.
I left and took my anger out on the punching bag I’d hung from the ceiling in Sheila’s bedroom.
Chapter 32
JANE
* * *
There was nothing I hated more than leaving a discussion hanging. Jamie storming out in the middle of our disagreement was beyond frustrating. I waited for him to come back, only to hear his apartment door open and close and his footsteps fade downstairs. Hurrying over to the window, I watched him stride with that languid grace toward the Porsche. I sighed, watching him drive out of the lot and disappear down the street.
Was I pushing Jamie too hard?
Was I manipulating him?
I hoped not, but Asher had me jumpy. He wouldn’t explain how he knew who Jamie was, and he wouldn’t explain his reasons for keeping me at bay with his father. As much as I loved Asher and wanted to believe he wouldn’t hurt us, couldn’t Jamie see why I was concerned? The last thing we needed was Foster Steadman findi
ng out Jamie was in LA looking for revenge.
Searching for distraction, I checked my emails and found a new one from Cassie. For a while, she had been a big part of my life, but neither of us liked social media or talking on the phone. We passed the occasional email. Asher, who had an abundance of acquaintances and less than a handful of close friends, once asked if I ever got lonely. Sometimes I did. However, never for a large group of friends. The only times I ever felt lonely were when I missed Jamie and what we’d had together. Or when I thought of Skye and our quiet afternoons.
Or when I had flashes of my life before my adoptive parents died.
Perhaps it was my disposition to be content with my own company, or perhaps it was just what I was used to.
I was in the middle of responding to Cassie’s updates when I heard the lock on my front door catch and then turn. Assuming Jamie had returned, I pushed aside my laptop to give him my focus. I was determined to make him see my point of view, but I’d be far subtler about it.
It wasn’t Jamie who stepped into my apartment.
It wasn’t Jamie who closed my door and locked it.
It was Frank Kramer.
Fear chained me to the couch.
A man of medium build with broad shoulders, a paunch, and a head of thinning, pepper-speckled dark hair, Frank Kramer wasn’t a particularly intimidating figure. However, one look in his eyes was enough to make me shiver.
His eyes were the coldest black I’d ever seen.
“The locks in this building are embarrassingly easy to pick,” he said, taking a step toward me. His heavy boots thudded on my wooden floor, and I finally came unstuck, pushing off the couch.
“Uh-uh.” Frank stepped toward me, smiling. “Just stay there. No sudden movements.”
My stomach roiled as I nervously licked my dry lips. Sweat gathered under my arms, and the adrenaline spike his appearance caused made me tremble. “What are you doing here?”
He considered me. “It comes as no surprise that you recognize me. Do you know why, Jane?”
I tried not to react to the use of my real name.
“Because I’m not dumb. And neither is Mr. Steadman.”
I took a step back.
“What did I say?” His voice flattened. “Stay put.”
“Get out of my apartment.”
Frank chortled. “Don’t be brave, baby. It’s not going to save you from this mess.” He looked around the apartment. “You know this is a nice place for a single woman in LA. You’ve done well for yourself.” He shrugged, squinting at me in confusion. “Why would you fuck that up?”
My heart raced out of control. I was afraid. Afraid of a man who had hospitalized his own wife. Who had framed Jamie. But I was more afraid that Jamie would come home, and Frank and Foster would take him from me again. “What do you want?”
“You think Foster didn’t know who you were? You think he’s dumb? As soon as his only son started spending lots of a time with you, he looked into you. Found out about the name change and the foster care … and what should appear on a little Google search for Jane Doe, Glendale, California, but photographs of Skye McKenna’s funeral. There you were, front and center, all cozy with Jamie McKenna.”
Oh my God.
Frank tsked. “All you had to do was keep your nose clean. Foster was perfectly willing to believe that you were moving on with your life, and your friendship with Asher was a coincidence. But we monitored you. Not a lot. Now and then.” He stepped toward me, the air around him chilly with menace. “I was lucky when I saw you with Elena Marshall. A random surveillance day to check up on you. And there you were with Elena. So, I followed you for the day, and who did you have a date with that night? Lincoln Gaines, Ethan Wright’s partner. Then I see you with Elena one week later. That wasn’t a coincidence. Foster doesn’t think so either. Is Jamie McKenna involved in this?”
“I haven’t seen Jamie in two years. Since the last time I visited him in prison.”
He nodded, like that’s what he expected. “He’s been smart enough to get out of state. To move on. He’s been smarter than you.”
I glanced surreptitiously around, searching for a weapon. There was nothing useful in my immediate vicinity. The deadliest were behind me in the knife block on the kitchen counter.
“This is a warning visit, Jane.” Kramer shrugged out of his leather jacket and laid it across the back of my armchair, as if he were just stopping by for tea. Then he began unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves.
Terror made my knees shake.
At my expression, he smirked. “I’m not going to rape you, Jane.” He pointed to the gold band on his left ring finger just before he took it off and put it in his pocket. “I’m a devoted husband.”
I wanted to laugh at that.
“But I am going to hurt you.” He took another step toward me, talking calmly, so calmly, almost like he was soothing a frightened child. “I’m going to hurt you enough to make you reconsider whatever you’re planning. You won’t make Elena talk because I’ll hurt her too. You won’t get to Wright because he’s a psychopath who could give a shit about you or your friend Skye McKenna. She’s just a dead piece of pussy, and if I have to come back after this, you will be too.”
I darted toward the kitchen, but I wasn’t fast enough. Heart in my throat, I choked out a yelp as I felt the sharp sting of my scalp pulling. Frank yanked me by my ponytail into his chest and covered my mouth with his hand, using his weight to force me to the floor. I fought with every ounce of rage inside me, bucking and battling, grappling and crawling, trying to get away from him.
Smashing my elbow into his face, I heard his grunt of pain as his grip on me loosened. I dug my nails into the floorboards, attempting to propel myself forward into the kitchen.
He grabbed me by the calves and hauled me back down the floor toward him. I cried out, my plea for help cut off as he flipped me like I weighed nothing and slammed me into the floor. He knocked the wind right out of me and I panicked, struggling to draw a breath.
Kramer drew back his fist and smashed it into my face. Fire blazed across my cheekbone as sparks of white light flared in my vision.
He hit me again, this time near my mouth, and I felt the sharp sting of my lip splitting.
Discombobulated, I couldn’t get myself together quickly enough to retreat before he hauled me up by the hair and punched me in the gut, winding me again.
Gasping for breath, I fell to my side. Fire exploded across my ribs as he kicked me as hard as he could. Another kick. Another.
And another.
Agony wrapped around me, but I tried to fight through it, tried to find my way back into my body.
“You had enough?” he asked, his voice sounding far away. “You’re just a little thing. I don’t want to go too far. Maybe I should break that cute little nose and we’ll call it a day, huh?”
Through the blurred vision of the eye I could feel swelling up, I gauged how close he was. Then I pulled my knees to my chest, pushed through the pain, and screamed as I punched out both feet toward his shins with as much force as I could. It sent him slamming down onto my coffee table, which collapsed beneath his weight. I scrambled to my feet and shot toward the door, slipping on magazines that scattered off the table.
I was almost there, sobbing in relief, when suddenly I toppled to the hardwood, yanked down by the ankle. Roaring in fury, screaming for help, I flipped onto my back, kicking out at his grasp. He was on his knees, coming toward me, and he threw himself onto me, his fist slamming into my face again.
My face felt like a ball of swollen, burning, throbbing pain as he squeezed my chin between his hand, hellfire in his eyes. “You need more, you little bitch?” Spittle flew from his frothing mouth.
Was I in hell?
Was he a hellhound?
Yes. I thought of his wife, Juanita, and how he didn’t even care about me like he’d obsessed over her. He’d cared if she died. He wouldn’t if I did.
Where were my neighbo
rs? Couldn’t they hear this?
No one was coming to save me, I realized.
No.
No way had I survived the shitty cards I’d been dealt in the twenty-six years I’d spent on this planet to break at the hands of this dickless abuser!
I grabbed for Kramer’s throat, trying to choke him, my nails clawing at his jugular. Kramer punched me, this time connecting with my temple.
I lost consciousness. I didn’t know for how long, but when I came to, he was still there, so it couldn’t have been long.
He straddled me, panting, hard. My vision was hazy; the room spun. Kramer wiped his nose and then spat on me. The wet fluid landed on my cheek, just below my eye.
The son of a bitch.
I turned away in disgust, and that’s when I spotted my keys on the floor.
My arm snapped out, my hands clawing at them, and as I felt him move to stop me, I swung my arm up, keys sharp-edge out, and swiped the fucker across the face with every bit of strength in me.
He yelled, clutching at the wound, and I launched myself upward, screaming my rage as I brought the keys down with both hands—with more force than I knew I had—right into the side of his neck. They slid in after a strange, jarring, popping sensation, and Kramer slumped off me, clutching at the makeshift weapon sticking out of him. Horror and disbelief slackened his features.
Get out, Jane. Get up and get out! It was Jamie’s frantic command I heard reverberating around my mind.
I wanted to scramble away. I did.
But there were black dots all over my vision.
Multiplying and multiplying until there was nothing but a starless universe pulling me into its dark depths.
Chapter 33
JAMIE
* * *
Sitting at the coffee shop on Sunset Boulevard, near my apartment, I couldn’t write. I thought if I took some time, poured all my frustration into the new novel, it might calm me down.
However, I couldn’t shake my agitation.
Keep This Promise Page 226
